


Too Good for You

by Alexis_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: HPFT, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Black/pseuds/Alexis_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Lucius Malfoy locked away in Azkaban and her social calendar withered away, Narcissa turns to Wizarding Harmony to find her true soul mate in ninety days or less. How will Lucius react?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Good for You

**Wizarding Harmony  
Dating Profile**  


**Name:** Narcissa Black (formerly Malfoy)  
**Age:** Young enough to have no wrinkles and old enough to do anything I desire. Very well, if you must know, I will be forty-two.  
**House:** Slytherin, of course  
**Eye Colour:** Blue  
**Hair Colour:** Blonde  
**Basic Appearance:** I am far more beautiful than my sisters. My skin is as pale as alabaster in moonlight and my hair as fair as flaxen.  
**Hobbies and Skills:** I dote upon my only son who is undoubtedly the heir of Slytherin. I am skilled at maintaining the family in proper social circles and enjoy belittling filthy Mudbloods. I am also quite accomplished behind closed doors.  
**Favourite Subject:** Inside the bedroom or back at boring old Hogwarts?  
**Worst Subject:** You haven’t answered my previous question; how then can I proceed with this one?  
**Favourite colour:** Green and silver  
**Positive Qualities:** I am physically very flexible  
**Negative Qualities:** I have none  
**Likes:** Luxuries, to be pampered  
**Dislikes:** Narrow-minded men, those whose blood is impure and blood traitors  
**Boggart:** As if I would tell you  
**Animagus:** I would never stoop so low as to change myself into an animal. The mere idea is distasteful.  
**Amortentia:** Leather and ice wine. What, do you actually believe I would reveal everything in an advertisement?  
**Brief Background:** I was born a Black. My failed marriage with Lucius Malfoy, may he rot in Azkaban, is of no consequence. Although my dearest son is the light of my life, I confess that I find myself lonely.  
**Qualities I Find Attractive in Others:** Power, strength, and cunning. It goes without saying that you must come from a Pureblood family. I prefer someone with an open mind in the bedroom.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Narcissa tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear as she gazed down at the dating profile she had filled out. Wizarding Harmony promised to help one find their true soul mate in ninety days or less. They were most trusted dating service in Europe and boasted the largest circulation as well.

She tapped her quill and contemplated whether her solicitor had yet delivered the divorce papers to Lucius. She already knew how her husband of close to twenty years would react.

_Let him rage. The Ministry will never set him free. In any case, I deserve much more than an empty bed at night and being treated as a social pariah because of Lucius’ ineptitude._

Ever since the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic, her social calendar had dried up and died a quiet death. Lucius’ lack of competency had resulted in his capture. Had he been quicker of mind, her dear husband could have escaped along with her sister, Bella.

Worse of all, Draco no longer had a strong father figure to look up to. Narcissa was determined to rectify that situation posthaste. Her son needed a firm hand and good role model. As his doting mother, she would provide him with one. Hadn’t she found a way to protect Draco by convincing Snape to make an Unbreakable Vow with her?

Narcissa dipped her quill into the green ink once more and completed the dating profile. She wondered exactly what sort of person would find her profile appealing. Perhaps someone cunning and strong enough to be her match. An open mind for the more intimate aspects of a relationship was preferable. 

She tapped the end of the quill against her perfect lips and smiled. _And perhaps someone with very pronounced facial features. I wonder just how far Wizard Harmony is circulated. Does Madam Puddifoot’s carry it or should I have a copy delivered anonymously to Hogwarts?_

~ ~ * ~ ~

****

**Wizarding Harmony  
Dating Profile**

**Name:** Lucius Malfoy  
 **Age:** Not applicable.  
 **House:** I was in Slytherin. Now I’m just reclining in my cell in Azkaban, pondering suicide, dating ads, and numerous other philosophical facets of my life.  
 **Eyes:** Sterling grey.  
 **Hair:** Vivacious blond.  
 **Basic appearance:** Quote from _Witch Weekly_ : “Piercing, icy eyes, trademark smirk, and a god-like golden halo of hair...” Yes, yes, I think that about sums it up.  
 **Hobbies and skills:** I suppose I’ve particularly distinguished myself in the fields of mindless racism, ritual bloodletting, egregious torture, and general sadism.  
 **Favourite subject:** Dark Arts because I am clearly “immoral,” or so deems the almighty Ministry of Magic. That’s why I’m here. Rotting in this cell. In Azkaban.  
 **Worst subject:** Need I even say this? I’ve petitioned to get Muggle Studies outlawed for years.  
 **Favorite Color:** Black. It accentuates my pale, alabaster skin.  
 **Positive qualities:** I'm a Pureblood. My devotion to my Dark Lord’s cause is . . . unrivaled. I’ve also been told I have a strangely endearing smirk.  
 **Negative qualities:** Though some people have uttered phrases like “deranged maniac”, “completely fanatical” and “one of the biggest wankers I know” in conjunction with my name, all evidence is to the contrary. Never mind that I’m a convicted criminal and am currently situated in the highest security prison in the country; you have to look at the man behind the white, skull-shaped mask that faintly resembles a vintage piece from the Ku Klux Klan. Appearances aren’t everything, you know.  
 **Likes:** Waxing philosophically, making people feel small, cackling maniacally, my wife, torturing fluffy creatures, indoctrinating my son into the ways of pure evil, being filthy rich, using large vocabulary around uneducated people, collecting dark relics, torturing house-elves.  
 **Dislikes:** To say nothing of the obvious: Muggles, Mudbloods, Halfbloods, all manner of races with diluted blood. Aside from that, I dislike this cell, Harry Potter and co., Dumbledore, and people who read dating ads.  
 **Boggart:** The person who is reading this dating ad. You’re still reading? Are you out of your bloody mind?  
 **Animagus:** A silver fox.  
 **Amortentia:** Fresh blood of Muggle-borns, singed flesh, and Narcissa’s perfume. What do you expect? I bought it for her.  
 **Brief background:** I was born in the richest family of Wizarding London, graduated at the top of my class, became a Ministry official, secretly joined a fanatical racist in his quest for immortality, eventually got arrested and thrown into Azkaban, went insane there and became a raving lunatic who fills out dating ads in his spare time.  
 **Qualities I find attractive in others:** Blonde hair, blue eyes, extremely beautiful, Purebloods, my wife. If you haven’t already figured this out, you moron, it’s a joke. Do you think the great Lucius Malfoy would stoop to such a silly, frivolous level? Dating ads are infinitely pathetic, and so are you. Kindly put down your newspaper, leave your house, and find a hobby of some sort. Or better, come up with an ingenious way to commit suicide so as to purge us all of your sordid excuse for a life. Hideous wretch.

~ ~ * ~ ~

In Azkaban, they say that it is dead silent. A sound, if it does pierce the grimy threshold between two cells, is cut short, muted by the weight of memory.

On this day, it was not silent. 

Lucius Malfoy, owner of the largest fortune in Wizarding London, hurled a stack of rather innocuous-looking papers violently across his five meter cell. They landed with a sickening thud next to the dating ad he had been toying with.

He swore softly under his breath, trying hard to hold back the emotions threatening to consume him: rage, pain, fear. These would attract Dementors to him like a rotting carcass attracted flies. He slammed his too-pale hand against the wall, though the begrimed mortar offered him no comfort. 

_Divorce? She wanted a divorce? Impossible!_

Lucius raked his hands through matted blond hair.

It wasn’t that he actually cared about her; it was the principle of the thing! One did not divorce a Malfoy. It was simply unthinkable. How dare Narcissa take such a ridiculous liberty. He would look like a fool to all of Pureblood London if she went through with this absurd scheme. 

Yet something else slid through Lucius’s mind, some thought so elusive that he could not seem to grasp it for more than a moment. The Dementors had long since consumed any pleasant emotion or memory and yet something of Narcissa still lingered. It was not a thought or a memory or even an emotion. It was a mere imprint, a vague sense, like the way sun superimposed red shapes on the back of his eyelids; a shadow of splendour. He remembered her like he remembered silence, or sunlight, or the tiny, imperceptible flicker of shadows across a human face that clearly denoted emotion. She was almost there in his memory, but not quite. 

Before the Dark Lord and Azkaban with its Dementors, even before their son, they had had something, hadn't they?

He couldn’t remember now; his past life seemed incredibly distant. Had they laughed? Had they held hands? He rested his head against his arm and closed his eyes. They had been happy once.

Hadn’t they?

~ ~ * ~ ~

_“Obliviate!”_

The fat wizard seated across the table jerked back violently in his chair. The motion dislodged his toupee; it perched precariously on his head and looked as if it would slide off at any moment. Below bushy eyebrows, his eyes were glazed. 

Narcissa wrinkled her nose in revulsion as she regarded her date sent from Wizarding Harmony. So much for their guarantee of finding one’s true soul mate. Oliver McCreelin was most certainly not her idea of a soul mate. True, his nose probably was better suited on a vulture, and his open mind and imagination rivaled hers, but he failed miserably in all other aspects. His bloodline was only pure for the previous three generations, and his physique matched that of a walrus. Worst of all, Oliver McCreelin was employed by the Quibbler as a reporter.

“W-who are you?” mumbled Oliver in confusion. 

Ignoring him, Narcissa slipped her wand back into her pocket and strode out of the room. Thank Salazar she had had the foresight to arrange for a private dining room for their date. The thought of enduring yet another public humiliation was almost more than she could bear.

As soon as she exited the Aldwych, Narcissa Apparated back to her new apartment in London.

~ ~ * ~ ~

A high-heeled leather boot flew just above the pale face in the fireplace. The Wizarding Harmony counselor barely ducked in time.

“Mrs. Mal-”

“Black!”

“Of course! Miss Black, we sincerely apologize. There must have been an administrative error. Had we known Oliver McCreelin was in the employ of the Quibbler, we most certainly would not have –"

“Enough of your pathetic apologies. I want to see the list. Who else has inquired about my advertisement?”

The counselor halted in the act of handing back Narcissa’s boot. “List, Ma’am?”

“Exactly what part of my question did you fail to understand? Yes, the list! Forget about your twenty-nine points of compatibility. I’ll find my own match.”

The counselor looked nervously around and finally said, “There isn’t a list, Miss Black. There haven’t been any other inquiries.”

Abruptly, Narcissa sat down. A look of confusion replaced her typical haughty expression.

“I discussed the situation with my superior and we thought – well – perhaps it would be best if you refined your advertisement.” He hesitantly handed Narcissa a blank dating profile. “We suggest removing all references to Mr. Malfoy and Azkaban. Perhaps even your son-"

“No!” exclaimed Narcissa. _Any man interested in me must be willing to accept my devotion to my son._ She ran a hand through her silky blonde hair in an effort to calm her emotions. “I’ll take your other advice into consideration.”

She ended the conversation with a wave of her hand. Pacing the room, she pondered over what the counselor had said. She came to the conclusion they might have been correct.

Once more seated at her writing desk, she began the task of completing the dating profile.

_Perhaps I should indicate an interest in potions …_

~ ~ * ~ ~

_If you like ice wine and leather,_  
_and you enjoy causing pain,_  
_If you've no love for Muggles,_  
_If your money falls like rain,_  
_If you're open-minded in the bedroom,_  
_If your soul needs a mate,_  
_Then I'm the goddess you long for,_  
_Come! Social circles await!_

~ ~ * ~ ~

Lucius paced back and forth in his cell; the moments seemed to grow longer and longer.

 _So, I am to be set free from Azkaban tomorrow,_ he thought. Well, that had been expected, really. He had paid off many Ministry officials in order to insure that his stay at Azkaban would be short, if not non-existent. 

It was returning to society that worried him. His reputation had no doubt already been soiled considerably; the fact that he had gone to Azkaban at all clearly revealed that he had not the power or influence to keep himself out. 

But his divorce with Narcissa would ruin him! There was simply no way of escaping complete and utter humiliation at the hands of his scheming wife. 

Unless... 

Unless he made it look as if _he_ had lost interest in her. Unless he made _her_ out to be the heartbroken fool. Unless he dated another woman, and made sure a couple of reporters found out about it. 

But where would he find an eligible woman? He needed a way to contact hundreds of women, announce to them all that he was open to dating. The girl had to be young, and pretty, and Pureblood. He needed to do it without his wife– ex-wife– knowing. 

His eyes brushed over the neglected dating profile in the corner. He had had a lot of fun filling that silly thing out. What a joke that had been. As if any woman would actually– 

He stopped. 

Looked at the profile again. A slow smirk spread over his face. It was _perfect._ He would simply fill out the dating add, submit it, and women would come crawling to him! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

It was all so flawless, so simple. In no time he would have his manor and his son back, and he would live with someone younger than his wife. Prettier, too. With blonder hair, and bluer eyes. A sharper wit. A better body. A more dazzling smile. Someone who didn’t annoy him like Narcissa did, someone who didn’t argue as perfectly, or smirk as slyly. Someone who didn’t make his heart pick up speed, someone who didn’t make his knees go weak and his mouth go dry like Narcissa did . . .

He abruptly cut off that train of thought as his smile faltered. 

_I'm too good for you, Narcissa._

The plan was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

~ ~ * ~ ~

_Yes, I like ice wine and leather,_  
_and I love causing pain,_  
_I've a horror of Muggles,_  
_Yes, my money falls like rain,_  
_I want to see you tomorrow night,_  
_Wear these earrings shaped like snakes,_  
_At the Manor of Parkinson's,_  
_We shall plan our next date!_

~ ~ * ~ ~

Lucius scrutinized his reflection one last time in the mirror, and then Apparted soundlessly to the front of the Parkinson Manor. Geneva Parkinson was holding her annual ball; it would be his first time attending a social event since Azkaban.

 _Luckily, I have a date,_ he thought smugly. The dating service had worked out after all. A mystery woman had responded almost immediately to his add.

He entered the ballroom. Moonlight filtered through an enormous skylight, casting the room in a pale, earthy glow. 

He scanned the ballroom casually. 

_Where in the world is she?_

~ ~ * ~ ~

Narcissa put the finishing touches of make-up on and surveyed the result in the mirror. The faintest touch of blush graced her cheeks; pale pink lips curved into a satisfied smile. She dabbed on a hint of perfume and then turned to the side and viewed herself critically. The silky white dress robes complimented her figure. It was more revealing than what she typically wore before her divorce.

_Not bad for a mature and experienced woman. Not bad, indeed._

Her date would undoubtedly be impressed. It had surprised her how quickly someone had responded to her new advertisement. Whoever he was, Narcissa had to admit he had both an impeccable sense of style as well as money. A gift had been sent along with the invitation. A pair of exquisitely wrought silver earrings twisted into the shape of snakes with emerald eyes. 

_Goblin-crafted, the highest quality, and such a cunning hint. I would never have guessed that the salary of professor could afford such luxuries._

She ran a finger over the cold metal admiringly before slipping them on. Then she Apparated to the Parkinson Manor. 

The ballroom was filled with the strains of music and illuminated with numerous candles. In the moonlight, Narcissa was radiant, a glowing vision of pale perfection.

_Should I try to find him or perhaps I make him come to me?_

~ ~ * ~ ~

Lucius caught a glimpse of his mystery woman from across the ballroom floor. She was ethereal; she was a vision. Swathed in a silky white dress, her pallid figure moved artlessly across the floor. The earrings he had given her sparkled, flame-like, in the pallid light.

As he made his way toward the woman, a strange nostalgia overcame him. Memories should not have motives– this one did. He realized that she was his ex-wife a split second before she turned around. Something in the way she moved, he supposed. He would have known her anywhere.

He froze for a moment– then a smirk slowly spread over his face. He composed himself and approached her confidently. 

“Hello, Narcissa,” he greeted. Simple and devastating as that. 

“Lucius,” she replied calmly, composed and icy as he remembered. “It’s a surprise to see you here . . . I rather figured you were still in Azkaban. Pity.”

“My dear Narcissa, you haven’t changed at all since I last spoke with you. Cynical, icy, a cold-hearted wretch to the very last breath. But alas, have I insulted you terribly? Ah, well. You were never one to take things personally. I’m curious, where did you purchase those lovely earrings you’re wearing?”

~ ~ * ~ ~

Narcissa's gaze raked over the figure of her ex-husband. Those icy grey eyes, the smirk that crossed his sensuous lips.

"I see that Azkaban did not alter you a whit. As for the earrings, they were a gift from a paramour. I expect he will be here shortly." 

She lifted one elegant eyebrow and turned to walk away, giving him the cut direct.

Unexpectedly, Lucius tilted back his head and laughed. She hesitated momentarily and his hand shot out, capturing her elbow. His touch - so achingly familiar - inflamed her anger.

Turning back to him, she hissed, "I cannot fathom what you find amusing. Do you think no one else would be interested in being at my side?"

~ ~ * ~ ~

Lucius took it all in slowly: her stormy eyes, her silky dress, the pallor of her skin contrasted against the backdrop of burning darkness.

For a moment, his smug expression quieted to something that perhaps resembled sincerity.

“Hardly,” he answered. “You are gorgeous, as usual. I bought those earrings with you in mind, after all.”

Emotion flickered across her face: shock, anger, and embarrassment. Relief, if he read between the lines.

“You . . .” she spluttered, “the advert . . .”

He nodded. “Yes, yes, it’s all quite ironic, don’t you think? You ran away from me and yet somehow ended up right back at my side. Coincidence?”

Narcissa paused. He still gripped her forearm, and felt tension radiating from her, indecision held at its highest point.

~ ~ * ~ ~

_Coincidence?_

“Hardly,” she answered at last, with a smirk that rivaled his own. “I can’t seem to shake you off, can I? Well, so be it.”

Maybe he wasn’t everything she’d ever wanted. Maybe he was flawed. But maybe (and it took a lot for her to admit this to herself, have no doubt), maybe she was flawed as well. 

“Would you care to dance, Miss Black?”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” she corrected softly, as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. “Please,” she whispered, with a soft smile. 

“Mrs. Malfoy.”

  
**~ Finite ~**

 

_I always knew...._

_You love skin of alabaster,_  
_Only pure-bloods should reign,_  
_Emerald green and silver,_  
_And eyes of icy grey,_  
_We're open minded in the bedroom,_  
_We'll both don mask and cape,_  
_You're the princess I long for,_  
_Come! Your silver fox awaits!_  


**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:  
> This old AU one-shot originated from an assignment in a Love Potions class at MNFF back in 2008. Professor Wendelin requested that students select a character and create a dating ad. Once completed, she partnered up students and set them on the task of co-drabbling. I had the distinct honor of being partnered with Hatusu. Together we wrote a series of drabbles, alternating back and forth. I wrote the parts featuring Narcissa; those segments belonging to Lucius were crafted by Hatusu. The last section was frantically drabbled out around midnight and owed more to Hatusu’s skill than mine. 
> 
> The lyrics interspersed throughout the tale were contributed by redandgold of House Ravenclaw at MNFF back in 2008. She did an incredible job of crafting an original set of lyrics to the music of “Escape (The Pina Colada Song)” by Rupert Holmes, from the album _“Partners In Crime”._
> 
> Many thanks to the betas that wrangled this tale into compliance at the time of its creation: Wand_Waver2006, lily_evans34 and miss pad foot.
> 
> Lovely banner by beyond the rain @ the-dark-arts


End file.
